Translator: CinderTL
As Roland's words fell, an oppressive silence descended upon the room.
After a long moment, Mason finally lifted his head, struggling to maintain an innocent expression.
"Mason? Sir, are you calling me?"
But Roland had no interest in playing this charade.
Seeing the feigned confusion on Mason's face, he said nothing, merely picked up his teacup and took a slow, deliberate sip.
His eyes, however, remained fixed on Mason's face, like tangible probes that grew sharper with each passing second.
Mason's expression gradually stiffened, as if he were wearing a poorly fitted mask.
Yet what followed defied Roland's expectations.
The noble youth before him showed no panic or violent reaction upon having his identity exposed.
Instead, he sighed softly, set down the teapot he had been holding, leaned back in his chair, and said wearily, "So... you've come to arrest me?"
"I think you misunderstand, Mr. Mason..."
Seeing the almost indifferent calm on Mason's face, Roland's eyebrows arched slightly.
He set down his teacup, the bottom clinking softly against the table.
"I no longer serve the Golden Valley Kingdom. As for how I recognized you..."
Roland omitted the specific details of how he learned Mason's identity, opting for a more direct explanation.
"Darco and I... we're good friends."
"Darco..."
The name seemed to stir warm memories, as Mason's lips twitched almost imperceptibly upward.
"That fellow... is he doing well?"
"He's doing alright. If everything goes as planned..." Roland's voice remained steady. "He should be training at the Knight Academy by now."
"The Knight Academy..."
A complex, indescribable emotion flickered through Mason's eyes at the mention of the academy, ultimately settling into a helpless sigh as he shook his head.
"That guy hasn't changed a bit. Smart, talented... whatever he sets his mind to, he always succeeds."
Smart? Talented?
Roland's expression instantly turned peculiar. The image of that impulsive, headstrong blond noble youth flashed through his mind.
He simply couldn't reconcile those words with the reckless fellow he knew.
The atmosphere in the room softened considerably, likely because of their mutual friend, Darco.
"That Darco..." Mason's tone lightened slightly. "What did he tell you about me?"
"Let me think..." Roland frowned, concentrating for a moment before slowly reciting Darco's exact words. "He said you were... incredibly kind. You wouldn't even step on an ant crawling through the garden, and on rainy days, you always carried lost fledglings back to their nests..."
"Stop, stop, stop!" Mason interrupted urgently, his face flushing crimson with obvious embarrassment.
Realizing he'd overreacted, he took a deep breath, his toes curling uncomfortably inside his boots. His voice carried a hint of awkwardness as he continued, "That Darco bastard... Never mind. This... uh, my apologies..."
He glanced apologetically at Roland and added softly, "I haven't asked your name yet?"
"Roland."
"Then, Mr. Roland," Mason quickly changed the subject, as if desperate to escape the awkwardness. "Shall we... talk about something else?"
"Very well."
Roland shrugged nonchalantly, his peripheral vision catching Pixie Tracy staring curiously at his teacup. He casually pushed the cup toward her.
Tracy leaned forward without hesitation, carefully taking a small sip. The bitter taste of the tea made her wrinkle her face and stick out her pink tongue.
Watching her reaction, Roland couldn't help but chuckle softly. His gaze returned to Mason, now tinged with curiosity.
"Mr. Mason, I'm rather curious... how did you come to know me?"
Roland clearly remembered Mason's soft gasp during their initial encounter in the jungle. Though the man had quickly masked his surprise, that fleeting moment of shock had piqued Roland's interest.
In his memory, his knowledge of Mason was limited to Darco's descriptions; the two had never crossed paths in reality.
"Because..."
Mason's brow furrowed at the question. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze briefly shifting before he finally chose to be honest.
"When the Golden Valley Kingdom sent people to search the Dawn Territory... I saw you. You were standing next to a man in pitch-black armor."
This answer instantly clarified things for Roland.
It was after the Far Ocean Port incident. To avoid further complications, he and Darco had accompanied Black Knight Gondar back to Blackwater Territory.
Clearly, this memory stirred up unpleasant emotions in Mason.
His lips pressed into a tight line, and he fell silent.
Roland, observing Mason's expression, also fell silent. After a moment, he asked softly, "So... do you hate me?"
"Hate you? No..." Mason shook his head gently, his voice growing softer. "I know very well that my father's arrest and the search of Dawn Territory had nothing to do with you. How could I hate you for that? I just..."
His words trailed off abruptly.
Mason's eyes lost focus, his face now blank with deep confusion.
"After everything I've been through... logically, I should hate something—a person, an event—but..."
His voice grew softer, as if he were whispering to himself.
"I don't even know who to hate... My father? No..."
He shook his head again, the movement slow and heavy.
"Though he persecuted his people and betrayed His Majesty Monen... everything he did was to save me."
He paused, a flicker of inner conflict in his eyes.
"Hate His Majesty Monen? But my father did commit treason... As for the Church of Truth..."
At the mention of their name, undisguised loathing flashed across Mason's face.
"I can't direct my anger at them either."
"Even though I know they must have ulterior motives, without them..."
His hand unconsciously pressed against his left chest, his voice trembling slightly.
"I... I would likely have already crossed the gates of hell."
"The gates of hell?" Roland tried to lighten the oppressive atmosphere with a casual tone. "Why not the gates of heaven?"
"Those people... they were innocent!"
Mason's hand, which had been gently resting on his chest, suddenly clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white as if he were trying to crush his own heart.
"They should have had peaceful lives... but because of my illness... their lives were needlessly sacrificed! So..."
He looked up, forcing a bleak, broken smile.
"How could someone like me, who carries the weight of innocent lives... ever hope to enter heaven?"
"Perhaps..."
Mason lowered his head again, his voice sinking deeper into the shadows.
"Perhaps I should have died sooner. Then... none of this would have happened. But I... I can't just give up on this life."
His tone suddenly hardened, imbued with a cruel stubbornness.
"My life... was bought with the lives of my people. Whether they resent me, curse me... I have no right to discard this life... this life given to me by their blood!"
By the end, Mason's facial muscles were contorted by extreme pain and struggle.
It was a complex expression, a suffocating blend of remorse, resentment, despair, and a twisted resolve.
(End of the Chapter)
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